ee discussed and described the condition
in which he had lived up to about two years ago. The speaker was, it
appeared, a fellow-townsman of Bendigo's, and his recollection of him
went back for nearly forty years, at which time his state was so bad
that Mr. Dupee, then a lad, used to walk behind him through the streets
of Nottingham praying that he might be forgiven. Now he was saved, and,
quoting the handbill that had advertised the meeting, Mr. Dupee hailed
him as "a miracle of mercy, the greatest miracle of the nineteenth
century," which view the congregation approved by fervent cries of
"Praise the Lord!" "Hallelujah!"

Whether Bendigo would stand steadfast in the new course he had begun
to tread was a matter which--Mr. Dupee did not hide it--was freely
discussed in the circles where the ex-champion was best known. But
he had now gone straight for two years, and Mr. Dupee believed he
would keep straight.

Before introducing Bendigo to the meeting, Mr. Dupee said his own
"brother Jim" would say a few words, his claim upon the attention of
the congregation being enforced by the asseveration that he was "the
next great miracle of the nineteenth century." From particulars which
Mr. Dupee proceeded to give in relation to the early history of his
brother, it would be difficult to decide whether he or Bendigo had
the fuller claim to the title of the "wickedest man in Nottingham."
A single anecdote told to the discredit of his early life must
suffice in indication of its general character. He was, it appeared,
always getting tipsy and arriving home at untimely hours.

"One night," said the preacher, "he came home very late, and was
kicking up an awful row in the street just before he came in. I
opened the window, and, looking out, said to him very gently, 'Now
Jim, do come in without waking mother.' And what d'ye think he said?
Why, he said nothing, but just up with a brick and heaved it at me.
That was Jim in the old days," he continued, turning to his brother
with an admiring glance. "He always was lively as a sinner, and
he's just the same now he's on his way to join the saints."

"Jim" even at the outset fully justified this exordium by suddenly
approaching the pulpit desk with his hands stretched out, singing the
"Hallelujah band." In the course of an address delivered with much
animation and filled with startling phrases, it became clear that
"Jim" had been the immediate instrument of the conversion of Bendigo.
H